


One Touch

by LadyFogg



Category: Gotham (TV), Gotham (TV) RPF
Genre: Counter Sex, F/M, Just Sex, Kitchen Sex, Language, Letting off steam, Non romance, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 06:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11225661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: You and Jerome let off a little steam after a tough day.





	One Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lovely commission fic I did for my 1500 follower giveaway. Enjoy! 
> 
> Fic Song: https://open.spotify.com/track/6L5Q9NHtm4CCtBfDRae34r

 

Jerome always seems to know when to come to you. It can be unsettling at times, though right now you can't find it in yourself to think too much on it. The day had been rough, rehearsals for your new act going horribly.

You've escaped from that glass case dozens of times, it was your partner. He was a replacement for the last guy. Rather than letting you do the act on your own, they had insisted you remain the assistant. It was infuriating, especially when it was clear this guy had no idea what he was doing. If it was the real thing, you could have seriously injured yourself, or suffocated to death.

Slamming the door of your trailer in frustration, you stomp over to the kitchenette and drop your keys next to the sink. After a moment, you sense another person in the room.

Jerome is in your trailer, you can feel him watching through the dark.

“How’d you get in here?” you ask as he emerges from the shadows. You keep everything locked up when you leave, which means he must have picked the front door somehow.

Jerome steps up behind you, so close you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. A hand on your between your shoulder blades forces you against the small counter, trapping you between it and his body.

“Magic,” Jerome chuckles.

You roll your eyes, but before you can respond, his mouth is on your throat, kissing and nipping hungrily. Your body melts against him in an instant, hands falling onto the counter to steady yourself. His hands grip your waist tightly, giving him the leverage he needs to grind his pelvis into your backside.

“Won't your mommy be looking for you?” you tease breathlessly.

He's only a few years younger than you, and certainly a legal adult, nevertheless, you love goading him, teasing him about the age difference.

Jerome makes a noise of disgust. “She's banging the snake guy, she won't notice I'm gone,” he assures you.

That's why he's there already. He tends to come looking for you when his mother is entertaining gentlemen. 

The first time had been a surprise, and though he insists it hadn't been planned, you don't believe him. You were sulking in your changing room, angry at another failed rehearsal, and he had appeared from seemingly nowhere. The next thing you knew you were bent over the dressing table while he took you from behind.

Coming back to reality, you grind with him. “Did you bring condoms?” you ask.

Jerome stops kissing your neck, nuzzling it instead. “It's my birthday,” he coos. “Don't I get a little present?”

“Happy birthday,” you say. “Your present is not getting me pregnant. Condom or go home, Jerome.”

When he draws back, you think he might actually leave. However, redhead only sighs dramatically and you hear rustling before a condom is slapped down on the counter in front of you.

“You're no fun,” he declares.

Satisfied, you grin and grind back against him. “Then why are you fucking me?”

Jerome spins you around and you're finally able to look him in the eye. Your grin fades as you're met with a furrowed brow and forced smile. 

Uh oh, he's in one of  _ those  _ moods. Whatever happened at home before this wasn't good. He's seething with thinly veiled rage and his hands are rough when they lift you onto the counter. 

“Because you need my cock and I need your submission,” he growls. 

“Oh I  _ need  _ you, do I?” you question, making no move to stop him.

“I saw rehearsals,” Jerome smirks. “I  _ know  _ you need me.”

Lacking a response, you wrap your hand around the back of his head and tug him forward into a kiss. It's sharp and painful, with no trace of gentleness. It's never gentle with Jerome, which is why you like hooking up with him. No honeyed words or empty promises, just pure carnal lust. 

Jerome’s tongue prys your lips apart as he forces it into your mouth. He tastes of nothing, only spit and his natural flavor. Even still, you find yourself becoming addicted to it, allowing his tongue to invade your mouth because you know pleasurable things are to follow. Withdrawing his tongue just as quickly as he thrust it in, Jerome bites down on your bottom lip, making you groan.

The sound of his belt buckle is louder than the whimpers and grunts filling the room. It sends a shudder through you, and you slide your free hand down his chest. You want to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock in your hand. 

Jerome seizes your wrist and slams your hand on the counter, before he reaches under your thigh to grab the condom.

Yeah, definitely one of _ those  _ nights. When it's this bad, you're just a body for him, a way for him to unleash his frustrations. Which you don't mind, because you’re using him for the same reason. 

Kissing stops only so Jerome can slide the rubber on, while you take the bottom of your tank top and pull it up and over your head. It gets thrown off to the side, and you barely register Jerome closing in again until his hand is between your thighs.

Gasping, you arch into his touch, body feverish as the tip of his finger rubs firm circles around your clit. It's nearly too much right out the gate, and you convulse, instinctively moving away. He eases up slightly, if for no other reason than to keep you in place. Your hips rise and fall along with his movements, urging him on.

Eyes falling closed, you surrender to the sensations, still feeling him watching you, your chest heaving with your harsh breath. His finger dips down through your slit and feels your slick.

“All ready to go, aren't you?” Jerome grunts, shoving his finger inside.

You shout at the unexpected intrusion, body erupting with goosebumps. Jerome strokes you from the inside, crooking his finger just the right way so it brushes your sweet spot. Your breathing is ragged and harsh, and you find yourself licking your lips to wet them.

“Are you going to do something about it or just talk?” you manage to gasp, wrapping your legs around him in encouragement.

Jerome pulls his hand away suddenly, making you whimper at the loss. Dragging your eyes open, you find Jerome's mouth turned up into a large grin. The second you meet his gaze, he spits in his palm before gripping himself and stroking. He wets his cock for you, all the while never breaking eye contact. 

It's unnerving, that dangerous look making you recoil slightly, but then he's kissing you and you forget everything else.

Jerome buries himself in you with one quick, deep thrust. Hand gripping under your thigh, fingers digging into the sensitive flesh, he does it a second time, harder than before. Your back slams against the cabinets behind you, and he laughs as you yelp. He withdraws and thrusts back in repeatedly now, and you dig your heels into the backs of his thighs excitedly. 

He fucks you almost brutally, mouth attacking your neck and shoulder while you grip the counter for dear life. There is no time to adjust, no time to get properly warmed up, making pain mix with the pleasure of being filled so spectacularly. You forget your issues from earlier. In fact, you forget everything that isn't the young man drilling you in your kitchen. 

The trailer is rocking with the force of his movements, and your grip on the counter tightens as you find it harder to remain balanced. You feel teeth pressing into your neck, which drags you to reality, and you use one hand to fist his hair, yanking his head back.

“No marks,” you pant. 

You can tell that was the wrong thing to say.

“Ashamed of me?” Jerome demands. “Don't want anyone knowing you're fucking the snake charmer’s son?”

This again.

“Outfit is low cut,” you manage to groan. “Can't have  _ any  _ marks for the show.”

“Not where they can see,” Jerome says.

With that, he growls and dips his head low, latching onto the patch of skin just above your left breast. He sucks hard and you cling to him with both arms now, practically cradling him to your chest. A brief flash of pain, followed by a soothing swipe with his tongue and it's done. 

You pull his hair impatiently,  forcing him to draw back so you can slam your mouth to his. The spot on your chest is tingling, and you know it will take days to fade completely, leaving no room to misinterpret what this is. It's not about emotions, or feelings, or affection. It's about the need for release, the need to claim control over  _ something  _ in your lives. That's it. 

Speaking of release, yours is coming up fast. You're drenched in sweat, wishing Jerome was naked so you could feel his skin pressed to yours. The deepness of his cock forces him to grind on your clit, and between the two, you're close to unraveling. It only takes a few more thrusts and then you're coming with a loud moan, twitching and jerking as the pleasure consumes you.

Savoring the feeling is not an option. Barely a second passes before Jerome is pulling out, leaving you brutally empty. He grabs you by the waist and yanks you off the counter, forcing you down onto your knees. He's still hard, and you watch through your post-orgasm haze as he rips the condom off. 

Gripping the back of your head, Jerome takes advantage of your open mouth, shoving himself past your lips. He tastes of latex and pre-cum, making you gag as his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Swallow,” he orders in a sharp voice, and when you do, you feel him slide further in, until your nose is buried in the red curls at his base. “Yeah, there you go.”

You shut your eyes and let him fuck your mouth, sucking as hard as his girth allows. Jerome’s hands tangle in your hair, yanking on the strands while simultaneously directing your movements. 

The only warning you receive is the feeling of his cock growing impossibly hard, and then he's coming into your mouth, gasping through breathless laughter. 

Once he's emptied himself, he leans over you to catch his breath, hands on the counter just as yours were earlier. 

Nearly thirty seconds go by, and when it doesn't look like he's moving anytime soon, you slap his thigh impatiently. With a near hysterical giggle, Jerome slips out of your mouth and lets you go, sinking onto one of your kitchen chairs.

You swallow his release and slump onto the floor, back pressed to the counter as you also try to catch your breath. Usually the after is awkward for you, but not with Jerome. The words come easily when there's none of those messy emotions involved. 

“That bad a birthday, huh?” you pant.

Jerome's chest heaves and he gives you a smoldering look as he pushes his pants down the rest of the way to kick out of them. Reaching into the back pocket, he draws out the rest of the sleeve of condoms, dropping them onto the table.

“There's still time to turn it around,” he says.


End file.
